


Is this a night that spans forever or a dawn that never comes

by smaragdbird



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Aftermath - victim unable to hide evidence of rape from others, Altered States - Hallucinations, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Demonic Possession, Dub/Noncon - Rape Aftermath, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries - Concussions and Head Injuries, Injuries - Hiding Injury, M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26570920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/pseuds/smaragdbird
Summary: The night when the Abrahamic cult died in a car accident, Chandler unexpectedly turns up at Kent's doorstep.Except that he might not be Chandler
Relationships: Joseph Chandler/Emerson Kent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Darkest Night 2020





	Is this a night that spans forever or a dawn that never comes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plutonianshores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/gifts).



Do not put them all in same van.

The words haunted him on his way home. How could she have known? Was she in on it, an accomplice of Louise Iver? It didn’t matter, the investigation of the accident was out of his hand. 

Miles had given everyone a few days off to deal with the events of the past few days. Riley and Mansell had taken off quickly, murmuring their apologies before going to see their loved ones. Miles had made a few more phone calls, checked on him to remind him to go home and then had gone himself. Chandler had felt a spike of jealousy that they had loved ones at all whereas he…

Kent had lingered the longest, shooting looks in his direction that Chandler had refused to return. He had failed. 

Eventually Kent had left, too, without a word. He was there one moment and gone the next, leaving Chandler with the remnants of the party that never was. He had cleaned up mechanically, because what else could he do? 

It was late at night when he left the building, his breath forming white fog in the cold air. His car was parked out back but he didn’t feel like driving. It was a long way home but what did it matter? 

His shoes echoed on the empty streets. He was far from the bars and clubs that’d be filled with life on a Friday night and it was too early still for the cabs to bring their drunken passengers home.

His hands were freezing but he didn’t put them in his pockets. The pain was deserved. 

There were steps behind him but Chandler ignored them, though as they came closer and closer dread rose within him but he dismissed it. 

“I’m sorry.”

An old ladies’ voice came from behind him and out of habit Chandler turned around. “Yes? Can I help you?”

Louise Iver smiled at him with too many teeth and sunk her claws into his chest. “You can.”

/

Arriving at home, Kent threw his bag into a corner and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He had moved to a place of his own last year when they had all gotten a pay raise for catching that serial killer. It was better in his job not having to deal with flatmates anymore.

The bottle had been a birthday present from Mansell. Kent hated whiskey, hated the burning feeling in his throat as he drank it. He threw the glass against the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces and poured the rest of the bottle down the drain which was much more satisfying than drinking it. 

He did not want to think about Mansell. He did not want to think about anyone or anything, especially not Chandler’s face when he had asked him out to the pub or the way he had said, “I’d love to.”

With a scream, Kent swiped across his counter, pushing his washed but not put away yet dishes to the floor. A mess for tomorrow to deal with. Or perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d just move out, move away, get a job outside of London and….

He threw himself down on the couch. Who was he kidding? Perhaps if Chandler quit, perhaps then he could leave but as long as Chandler remained, he would remain. 

A knock on the door roused Kent from a series of daydreams where he and Chandler had gone to the pub together, daydreams of broad, strong hands and soft lips and the persuasive smell of tiger balm. He glanced at his phone, it was past midnight, who the hell would bother him at this time? 

Warily Kent approached the door. His heart seized with shock when he saw Chandler standing on his doorstep through the spyhole.

Immediately he ripped the door open. “Sir?”

“Hello, Kent”, Chandler said. He was wearing his coat but his tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top and – 

“Are you injured?” Kent asked, glancing at the drops of blood on the front of Chandler’s shirt.

“Don’t worry about it”, Chandler replied. “I know you wanted to go to the pub but how about a bottle of wine instead?” He raised his arm to show a bottle of red wine, the cheap swill petrol stations were selling.

“Thank you, sir, I’d like that. Please come in”, Kent said. He suspected that Chandler was drunk, there couldn’t be any other explanation for his current state but that he had come to him instead of Miles or anyone else, well, Kent wasn’t going to complain.

Kent directed Chandler to the sofa while he got two glasses out, carefully avoiding the mess he had made in the kitchen area. When he returned, he saw that Chandler had taken his coat off and that there wasn’t just blood on his shirt – the fabric had been ripped.

“Were you in a fight?” Kent asked as he sat down.

“I’m fine”, Chandler replied, pouring both of them a generous amount of wine. He didn’t blink at the fact that Kent didn’t have wine glasses. He was more of a beer drinker and he hadn’t expected wine-drinking company any time soon if ever.

When Chandler took his glass, Kent mirrored him, choking on the wine when Chandler decided to place his free hand on Kent’s thigh just as he started drinking. However, since Chandler kept drinking, so did Kent, trying his best to ignore Chandler’s fingers caressing his leg and his own cock reacting to it. 

The wine tasted awful, sour and bitter like vinegar and when they set their glasses down, Chandler filled them right up again without removing his hand from Kent’s leg.

“Sir?” he hated how his voice was wavering on that one word. 

“Here’s to tonight”, Chandler said, raising his glass. He was clearly waiting for Kent to follow so Kent did. “May something good come from it after all”, he was looking right at Kent when he said it, licking his lips before he took a drink.

What was Kent supposed to do with that? He put the glass to his lips and forced himself to drink more of the awful swill, setting it down after a sip. Chandler however drained half the glass in one go while Kent watched him worriedly. 

The hand on his thigh slid upwards and further inside. A few more inches and Chandler would feel exactly what effect he had on Kent.

Suddenly Chandler leaned in, so close that Kent could feel his breath on his skin. 

“Kent?”

“Yes, sir?” His heart was racing in his chest.

“Stop worrying. You’re going to regret tonight in any case.”

Before he could make sense of Chandler’s words, Chandler pressed his lips to the bare skin of Kent’s throat. Kent jumped at the sensation but that did not deter chandler. He pushed closer, opening his mouth to lick, suck and bite at his throat and Kent let him. A better man might have cared that Chandler was only doing this because he was too drunk for sober judgement but Kent was not that man.

He moaned and tilted his head to give Chandler more room, flinching when Chandler bit down particularly hard but he did not stop him.

He had wanted this for too long.

Chandler was still holding his wine glass so inevitably as he leaned further over Kent, the wine spilled, staining Kent’s shirt red.

At Kent’s surprised yelp, Chandler pulled back, and then deliberately emptied the rest of his glass over his chest. “That’s a good colour on you.”

Any protests Kent had were swallowed when Chandler crushed their mouths together. The kiss was unlike anything Kent had imagined kissing chandler would be like. It was hard with too much teeth and too much pressure as Chandler let the glass drop to the floor and pushed his free hand into Kent’s hair, grabbing it tightly. 

It was uncomfortable but Chandler used the new leverage to pulled Kent into his lap and that was more than Kent had ever imagined would happen. He had watched Chandler long enough to be aware of his preferences. 

Kent felt dizzy when Chandler broke the kiss and then, with a greedy expression Kent had never seen on his face before, grabbed Kent’s stained shirt and ripped it apart. He pulled the pieces over Kent’s shoulders in a way that left his arms trapped behind him but Kent didn’t have time to mind it when Chandler’s lips closed over his nipple.

He moaned and shamelessly pushed his hard cock, straining within the confines of his trousers, against Chandler’s lap. Chandler’s hands held him steady with a strong grip on his waist and part of Kent was disappointed those hands weren’t slipping downwards to grab his arse.

Kent gasped in pain when Chandler’s teeth bit his nipple a little too hard. He didn’t like pain, never had, but if Chandler did, he would endure it. 

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Chandler turned his attention to Kent’s other nipple, biting it as well until it felt as swollen and tender as the other one. He returned his mouth to Kent’s throat while his hands slip up on Kent’s chest and started playing with his nipples.

Kent squirmed when Chandler twisted them particularly hard and he thought he could feel Chandler smile against his neck almost as if he was enjoying Kent’s pain. So what if he was? Hadn’t Kent sworn to himself he would do anything for a chance with Chandler? This was his chance, he just needed to stop being so squeamish.

Without warning, Chandler pushed him off his lap while keeping a hold on him so that Kent ended up lying on the couch instead of the floor. However, he also cracked his head on the sofa arm. Pain shot through his head and left him blind and disoriented for a moment.

Or so he thought.

When he came to it, Kent noticed that his trousers and underwear was missing but his torn shirt was still on, leaving his hands trapped beneath him.

Chandler was looming over him, holding Kent’s wine glass in his hand and smiling. It was that smile that unsettled Kent most of all but he ignored the warning bells going off in his head. This was Chandler. He’d never truly hurt him.

Chandler poured some of the wine over Kent’s chest and admired his handy work for a moment before leaning down and licking it up. Kent couldn’t believe what he was seeing as Chandler worked his way down his chest, licking up the awful wine and tongued Kent’s navel to get to all of it.

Kent’s erection, which flagged under the painful assault on his nipples, hardened once more under the soft, wet trail Chandler’s mouth left over his chest and stomach. 

“Stay there”, Chandler said with the sort of joyful elation Kent had heard last when Chandler had won a box fight against Jimmy Kray. He got to his feet and walked away, rummaging through a few of Kent’s drawers.

His head still hurt and he felt slightly dizzy though whether that was due to the situation or a potential concussion was anyone’s guess. 

Chandler returned, placing a lit candle that Erica had given him as a birthday present on the coffee table. It was meant to keep evil spirits away or some such nonsense.

“For later”, Chandler said with a wink. He was still mostly dressed though Kent saw that he had taken off his shoes and socks. Now though, while Kent was watching, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Then he opened his belt and his trousers and let gravity pull them down before pushing his underwear down as well and stepping out of the mess. 

Kent couldn’t stop staring. His cock pulsed painfully hard as he devoured Chandler’s naked body with his eyes. He was perfect. He was more than perfect, he was a beautiful, an old god descended amongst mortals to be worshiped.

His mouth watered at the sight of Chandler’s cock, standing hard and proud and perfect. 

“Like what you see?” Chandler teased him.

“More than”, Kent admitted shamelessly.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I can’t get out this shirt”, Kent said, twisting his hands and somehow feeling even more tangled up than before. 

“I want to fuck your mouth not your hands”, Chandler said with an impatient gesture. 

Kent was taken aback by the words and his tone but then decided to ignore them. He struggled to a sitting position and from there pushed himself off the couch and crawled the last few meters to Chandler on his knees. His cheeks were burning from the humiliation but Chandler didn’t seem to mind.

One of Chandler’s hands grabbed him by the hair, a little too tightly again, while the other one guided his cock into Kent’s open and willing mouth. A part of him still couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt too unreal, too far removed from anything he had ever imagined. 

Chandler’s cock felt bitter and heavy on his tongue and Kent used what little experience he had to make it good for him. 

“You look very pretty like this, sucking my cock”, Chandler told him, using the hand that was not buried in Kent’s hair to push a few strands out of his face. “You make a better rent boy than a police officer.”

A myriad of emotions shot through him; disappointment because what if this was how Chandler truly thought about him; anger, who did he think he was; humiliation; arousal; shame. It didn’t stop him though. Bit by bit he took Chandler’s cock deeper, pulled back only to take him deeper the next time he swallowed. It was slow and his jaw and knees started to ache but he could feel Chandler watch him and wanted to give him a good show.

Eventually though he reached his limit, feeling the head of Chandler’s cock bump at the back of his throat and pulling back before it could make him gag and ruin the mood.

“I’m sure you can do better than this”, was the only warning he got before Chandler grabbed his head with both hands and forced his cock down his throat.

With a panicked clarity as he gagged on Chandler’s cock Kent realised that in this position, he had no leverage against Chandler at all. With his nose pressed against Chandler’s pubic hair, his body started to convulse as he struggled for air but Chandler didn’t let up. 

Spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he was sure he was going to pass out any moment when suddenly, Chandler let him go. Kent desperately gasped for air though he didn’t collapse on the ground because of one Chandler’s hands was still holding him up. Something hot and wet hit his face in spurts, sliding down his skin.

“Now you look like a proper whore”, Chandler told him and let him fall to the ground. It sounded like he meant it as a compliment.

Tears stung his eyes and a sob came from his mouth. He had wanted this, wanted Chandler, yes, but not like this. He had wanted the version of Chandler he knew from work, the man who was kind and compassionate, not this beast standing above him.

“Don’t cry”, Chandler sounded disgusted. “I haven’t done anything to you yet.”

The last word made Kent’s heart seize in his chest. “Please leave”, he whispered. 

Instead Chandler scoffed as he straddled his lap, effectively pinning him to the floor. Through his tearstained eyes Kent could see him grabbing the candle off the coffee table and dread pooled in his stomach.

Chandler tipped the candle over and poured hot wax across Kent’s chest, covering both nipples in it.

Kent screamed. He twisted beneath Chandler, trying to get away but between his bound arms and Chandler’s weight on top of him, his attempts were useless.

With most of the melted wax gone, Chandler held the candle over Kent’s chest to drip a line along the middle of his chest and a circle around his navel before putting it back on the coffee table. “Green isn’t your colour.”

“Why are you doing this?” Kent asked.

“Because you want me to”, Chandler replied as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. He smiled and caressed Kent’s cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You want me in whatever form you can have me. This is it. I know you won’t enjoy it. But I will.”

Kent didn’t fight the tears that were spilling from his eyes and he didn’t fight when Chandler got up and flipped him onto his stomach, although he did flinch when he felt Chandler’s fingers trace the scars on his backside.

“They look even uglier than I thought”, Chandler said casually and his words shouldn’t hurt but they did. Kent hadn’t been with anyone since he had been striped but he had always imagined that Chandler would – it didn’t matter what he had imagined. This was reality. “Guess I’ll have to fuck you on your back.”

Kent cried out when Chandler smacked his arse even though it didn’t hurt but that didn’t mean he liked it. Another slap followed and he still flinched, pressing his lips together as he tried not to cry.

“Got to open you up first.”

“I’ve got lube in the bedroom”, Kent said and hated how weak and pleading his voice sounded. So helpless.

“Later”, Chandler replied and flipped him onto his back. 

Kent didn’t want to look at him. Maybe if he pretended that this was someone else, someone who just happened to sound like Chandler…

“Do you think any of those big bad criminals would’ve used lube if they had bent you over the nearest surface and fucked you like they wanted to?” Chandler asked as he pulled Kent’s legs apart. Worse yet, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and pushed beneath Kent’s hips.

Kent kept his eyes shut.

“Remember Private Leary from the Ripper case? He would’ve given you a trashing first, blackened your eyes, knocked a few teeth out, bruised and bloodied you properly and then fucked whatever whimpering mess of you he’d have left behind.”

Something was pressed against his opening. Not a finger or a cock but something hard and cold. The wine bottle Kent realised with sudden terror but with Chandler between his legs there was nothing he could do to prevent what he knew was going to happen. “Please. Don’t.”

“And the Krays…what would they have done to you if you had met them in a dark alley instead of a sunny street? Jimmy would’ve made you bleed, pinned your hand to the nearest surface with his knife so you couldn’t run. Had a thing for choking, too. He loved to watch the life drain out of people”, Chandler said, wrapping his hand around Kent’s neck and squeezed tight the same moment he pushed the bottle’s neck into him.

“If this makes you cry, my cock will make you scream”, Chandler told him and licked the tears from Kent’s cheeks. “Besides, it’s only a bottle. Cazenove would’ve fucked you with his gun. He’d have put it in your mouth first, get it nice and wet before fucking you with it. He’d have pulled the trigger, too. Now that would’ve been something to cry about.”

Chandler steadily pushed the bottle into him. The pressure on his muscles mounted and Kent was afraid that it would break so he tried to relax, tried to let it happen but it hurt so much and that it was Chandler doing this to him made it only worse. 

“Perhaps I should’ve brought some Spanish fly, then you’d enjoy this as well”, Chandler whispered into his ear, breath hot on Kent’s skin. “feel it burn in your stomach, on your skin, get you hard and ready for me to enjoy.” For a moment he abandoned the bottle and instead gave Kent’s cock a rough squeeze. “Or perhaps you’d prefer some classic date rape drug, though if you were any more compliant, you’d be dead and I want you to remember this night.”

He kissed Kent, prying his lips apart with tongue, a grotesque of their earlier kisses when Chandler had given him a false sense of security, while jerking his cock as if this was something reciprocal. The worst of it was that it worked. The shame, the humiliation, the pain, nothing stopped his body from reacting. Those were still the same soft lips he had dreamed about, the broad hands he had jerked off to, the smell of tiger balm that he had longed for every time Chandler had walked past him.

His body wanted to believe that his fantasies had come to life but just when Kent was tempted to give in to these daydreams, Chandler pulled the wine bottle abruptly out of him, causing him to cry out. His cock, however, was still hard in Chandler’s fist.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t let me do to you?” Chandler shook his head as if he was disappointed and rubbed the head of Kent’s cock with his thumb. “You’re such a good little cockslut for me.” He rose to his feet. “Get up.”

Kent stared up at him. 

“Get up and stand by your bed or I’ll fuck you here on the floor without lube.” Chandler’s tone wasn’t even threatening, merely a statement as if it made no difference to him what Kent would choose.

Getting to his feet wasn’t easy with his hands behind his back. He managed to get to his knees, knowing that he had to look ridiculous, squirming at Chandler’s feet like a worm, and lost his balance, hitting his head hard against the coffee table. Something fell over and the pain left him stunned and when he regained his senses, he could feel blood trickles down his temple.

He glanced up at Chandler who was staring back at him with an expression of pure indifference, and Kent understood that to Chandler he truly didn’t matter. It could’ve been anyone tonight, he just had been the most convenient choice, but if Chandler had picked up some poor, drunk student when he had bought the wine that would’ve sufficed, too.

The realisation stung and stirred up resentment inside of him. He had pined after chandler for years, the least he could in exchange for tonight was to pretend that Kent mattered in some way.

He staggered to his feet and briefly glanced at his front door. Somehow, he had managed to twist his shirt so tightly around his hands that he still couldn’t get out but perhaps if he…

Suddenly Chandler grabbed him and pulled him close, his lips against Kent’s ear as he whispered, “If you try to make a run for it, I will carve my name into your face with glass shards on the floor.”

Kent trembled as Chandler raised his free hand and traced a letter on his cheek though it wasn’t a ‘L’. Maybe Chandler a different first name?

“Now go.” With a slap on his arse, Chandler let go of him.

Kent felt his face twitch as he wanted to snarl at the touch, but instead he staggered over to the bed. How often had he dreamt of being here with Chandler? Contrasted against the reality of it, he wanted to cry or scream. 

Maybe Chandler was different when he was sober. Maybe in the morning he’d be kind and considerate like Kent had imagined him to be. Maybe he’d apologise with soft kisses and murmurs of affection and they would just never mention tonight again.

Chandler ripped the shreds of his shirt from him, finally freeing his hands, and then pushed him backwards onto the bed. He lay there, waiting and watching with growing apprehension, as Chandler took the lube and smeared it onto his cock.

“Please.” Kent hated how pitiful his voice sounded, but this was not how he had wanted this to go. Why couldn’t chandler open him up with his fingers first or let Kent do it himself? Why did he want to see him in pain? 

Chandler pushed his legs apart and manhandled Kent until he was right above him, the head of his cock pressing against Kent’s opening. “I told you my cock would make you scream.”

He pushed a hand over Kent’s mouth so it wouldn’t alert the neighbours. 

It hurt so much and the pain wasn’t even the worst of it. Chandler was doing this to him, the man he – Kent cut off his train of thoughts. A part of him wanted to cry but a bigger part f him was sick of his tears. 

Anger rose inside of him, uncurling its thorny veins from around his heart as he felt the snarl return to his face. His hands balled into fists. He wanted to hurt Chandler, hurt him as much as he hurt Kent. He wanted to dig his fingers into his face and make him see him.

Chandler caught his wrist, twisting it at such a sharp angle that Kent swore he heard it sprain. 

Beneath him, Kent twisted his head sidewards to get out from under Chandler’s hand on his mouth. “Get off me.”

“There you are”, Chandler looked him in the eyes as he said it but didn’t feel like he was talking to Kent directly. He leaned his forearm across Kent’s throat but leaving his weight off enough that Kent could talk. “Took you long enough.”

Fury burned in his veins like fire. Kent snarled in retaliation, too angry for words. 

Chandler laughed and for the first time tonight, Kent noticed that he had too many teeth. But when he blinked the image was gone.

“This meek little thing was the best you could find?” 

“I’m going to rip you apart.” Kent didn’t recognise the sound of his own voice. It was deeper, and much more feral. 

“While you’re skewered on my cock?” As if to emphasise his point, Chandler thrust into him. “I doubt it. Your host put you in chains. Mine gave me wings.”

Host? Kent wanted to know what she was talking about, when with sudden clarity, he saw.

The knowledge was no use for him, it only fuelled the anger inside of him because she had stolen this from him. Stolen it from both of them perhaps, though he was no match for Chandler alone and certainly not against Chandler and her.

The weight against his throat increased to subdue his struggles and his vision became hazy as if filled with smoke. Not enough to render him unconscious but to keep him from fighting too hard. His free, uninjured hand clawed at whatever part of Chandler he could reach but it was a laughable token of resistance.

“You’re my little plaything, Menoetius”, Chandler told him, thrusts become harder and faster, “I can do whatever I want with you.”

Fury like white hot metal flowed through body, burning out the pain and the loss. Kent swore he felt his skin heat with it, it was so intense. 

When Chandler came, he put his whole weight on Kent’s throat, cutting off what little air he had left and for a moment he was convinced that he would die here like this.

Then the weight lifted and no sooner than Chandler had pulled out of him, Kent was on him, straddling his chest and holding his arms down as he screamed at him until something tore loose inside of him.

Literally tore loose.

He could see it drive its teeth into Chandler’s throat to drag her out and onto the floor, hitting and hitting her again. 

Kent blinked and tried to see what was going on but the cloudiness wasn’t gone from his eyes yet and the deep gulps of air he took despite coughing didn’t seem to help. The anger ebbed out of him but the heat did not and that’s when he realised that something else was wrong.

Scrambling off the bed, he turned towards the couch area and saw flames.

The candle. He must have knocked it over when he had hit his head against the coffee table. 

Pressing a hand over his mouth and nose, Kent looked back at the bed through the thicker growing smoke but it seemed empty. Chandler was gone. 

How was that possible? 

The smoke stung in his eyes and Kent stumbled towards his front door, only narrowly avoiding stepping into the shards he had left earlier this evening. The fire alarm in the hallway rang shrill in his ears as he knocked on his neighbour’s door to warn them.

/

Chandler’s phone was ringing insistently on the table. He took it out and looked at the number, unknown to him, but answered anyway. 

Not another murder, he prayed silently as he glanced at the clock. Had it really taken him three hours to walk home? And why had he showered but then put on trousers and a fresh shirt instead of sleep clothes?

“DCI Chandler”, he said. 

The voice on the other end identified himself as a nurse at a hospital in Whitechapel, saying something about a fire in an apartment building and one of his officers as a victim. 

Chandler almost dropped the phone as a headache split his head into two. He could see Kent trapped in smoke, stumbling through his apartment -naked?

Where had that come from?

The nurse asked if he was still there.

Chandler told him he’d come to the hospital as quickly as possible.

/

His shoes seemed to echo loudly even in the densely filled emergency room when he crossed it. He had been here before, for the same reason, two years ago when Kent had been striped. 

“Can I help you?” A harried looking nurse asked. The usual Friday night crowd plus the accident earlier tonight and now an apartment building fire had pushed the hospital beyond its limits.

“DCI Chandler, I’m here for DC Emerson Kent”, Chandler said mechanically. Last time Miles had been here but Chandler hadn’t wanted to bother him in the middle of the night.

The nurse nodded. “This way.” 

“How bad is it?” Chandler asked, already feeling guilty when he thought about Kent’s invitation earlier this evening. 

The nurse looked around then pulled Chandler aside. “Mild smoke inhalation and a concussion but…he has injuries that are consistent with being restrained and assaulted. And he was found naked, plus the fire apparently broke out in his flat.”

“I’m his commanding officer, I can’t take a statement from him”, Chandler said, filling in the blanks.

“but maybe you can convince him to make a statement”, the nurse replied. “He claims he was alone but you know how these cases go. The quicker evidence is collected, the better.”

“I’ll see what I can do”, Chandler replied. This was a truly cursed night. First the accident and now this. He had seen Kent a few hours ago, how could anything have escalated so quickly? Of course, Chandler knew that the real world didn’t work like this and the events were most likely unconnected.

“Sir!” Kent’s red-rimmed eyes went wide as he saw Chandler enter his cubicle. He was breathing through an oxygen mask and was wearing one of the hospital gowns that made him look even and more vulnerable.

“Kent, how are you?” 

“I’m fine.” Kent had to have realised how his lie sounded because he corrected himself immediately. “I will be fine.”

“Is there anything you would like to say to an officer?” Chandler asked as delicately as he could. If the nurse was right then someone had assaulted Kent and tried to cover it up by burning him to death.

“No.” His answer was too quick and too forceful to be the truth. Kent wasn’t a good liar. “I don’t remember.” 

Concussion, the nurse had said, and while amnesia was a symptom, Chandler knew it was a lie.

“I was at the station and then I woke up in my bed and the room was filled with smoke, that’s all I remember.” Kent’s tone almost dared Chandler to contradict him.

“Where was the smoke coming from?” Chandler asked instead.

Kent glanced down. “I must have lit a candle and forgot to put it out before going to bed.”

“Do you remember that?” Chandler asked. A candle sounded romantic; a date gone wrong? Had Kent met someone and taken them home only for the situation to escalate?

“No, but I…uhm…I saw the candle on the floor.” 

A sharp pain threatened to split his head in two as Chandler saw Kent open the door for someone, smiling, two glasses of wine, a green candle on a coffee table.

“Sir? Are you okay?” Kent looked at him with big, worried eyes.

“I’m fine”, Chandler replied. It had been a long day and he clearly needed rest. “Do you want me to call someone, your sister, a friend, Miles?”

Kent shook his head. “I don’t want to bother anyone. I’m sorry called you, sir. It’s pretty late.”

“Don’t worry about me”, Chandler said with an attempted smile and reached out to touch Kent’s shoulder. He noticed every second of Kent’s instinctual flinch before he consciously relaxed and allowed the touch, cementing the assault theory in Chandler’s mind.

The harried-looking nurse returned with an equally harried-looking doctor. They exchanged a look while the doctor read Kent’s chart and Chandler shook his head. The nurse gave a resigned nod. 

“Can I go?” Kent asked the doctor after she had taken his vitals.

“Usually I would prefer to keep you overnight for observation but as overcrowded as we are tonight I could only offer you a trolly in the hallway. Do you have someone who could stay with you tonight?”

“he can stay with me”, Chandler offered. 

Kent looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights but the expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Chandler felt foolish, perhaps he should’ve asked first. A part of him wondered if Kent blamed him for what had happened to him tonight. Perhaps if they had gone to the pub after all…

In the direction of what-ifs lay nothing but madness, Chandler had learned that years ago.

/

A part of him wondered what devil had ridden him to accept Chandler’s invitation instead of calling Erika and crash at her place. Except that the devil who had ridden him was called Menoetius and it had already left him earlier to fight against the demon that had taken Chandler’s form to torment him. 

Kent wondered what the nurse who had wanted him to make a report would’ve thought if he had told him that. Probably referred him to the psychiatric ward or checked him again for brain injuries.

Worst of all, he himself wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t aside from the fire and in his injuries. 

Chandler, the real Chandler, the Chandler who was driving him home and sending worried glances towards him every few seconds, couldn’t have been the same man who had been at his flat tonight. Perhaps he had been assaulted by someone but it couldn’t have been chandler and since Kent did not believe in demons either, the only explanation was that his brain had superimposed Chandler on his memories due to the concussion and his smoke inhalation.

The nurse who had wanted him to report his assault had scrounged up some hospital scrubs and a pair of cheap loafers. He had meant well, Kent thought and shivered when he got out of the car in the cold November night, but how could he have made a statement if he didn’t know himself what had happened?

“Here”, Chandler draped his coat around Kent’s shoulders despite it only being a few meters to the entrance.

“Thank you”, Kent murmured but froze when he noticed that the coat smelled faintly of smoke.

Coincidence, he told himself as Chandler unlocked the front door, just a coincidence.

Chandler’s flat was spacious and warm, decorated with wood and sepia tones, and as meticulously clean as Kent had imagined it to be. He toed off his shoes at the door and hung up Chandler’s coat. Even the carpet felt nice under his bare feet. 

“Please have a seat”, Chandler said and gestured towards the couch. 

Kent hesitated but then told himself he was being ridiculous and sat down.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf”, Kent replied, knowing that if Chandler had offered him wine, he would’ve run for the door. Tea, however, was something much more naturally Chandler. “The hospital wouldn’t have let me go if I wasn’t fine.”

“You are not trouble”, Chandler told him firmly.

Kent watched him make tea over the back of the couch, feeling something like fondness stir in his chest. Whatever had happened tonight, whoever or whatever he had seen, it couldn’t have been Chandler.

It was a reassuring thought.

“You drink your tea without sugar, am I right?” Chandler asked as he set the tray down on the coffee table.

“Yes, thank you, sir”, Kent replied and took a sip. The tea was perfect.

“You don’t have to call me sir outside of work”, Chandler said. “Joe is fine.”

“Emerson.”

“Emerson”, Chandler repeated with a nod and something in the way he said it, made Kent’s heart flutter. “I left some clothes out for you in the bathroom. They’re probably too big but I – “

He was cut off when Kent impulsively leaned forward and pressed his lips to Chandler’s. It had no more similarity to the kisses earlier tonight than a butterfly’s wings had to a tornado. Kent pulled back quickly, an apology already on his lips.

“I’m sorry, I don’t why…I just…I just wanted to know…”

“Emerson.” When Chandler touched his shoulder, Kent looked at him. “I’m sorry. If we had gone out tonight like you wanted, maybe none of this would have happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It couldn’t have been. The man in front of him now and the man in his flat earlier were as different as day and night. They couldn’t be the same man, drunk on cheap wine or not. He took Chandler’s hand. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the Ripper case. It has nothing to do with tonight.”

Chandler actually looked surprised by his confession, which…Kent had always assumed that Chandler knew about his feelings and ignored it because he was uninterested, not because he hadn’t known.

The hand on his shoulder rose to his cheek, fingertips caressing his skin hesitantly as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch him. “Could I kiss you again?”

“Of course.” He held his breath as Chandler leaned in, the kiss soft and slow and sweet; and Chandler’s hands never even straying below his shoulders. It was more than he had imagined because it was real. 

“Thank you.” Chandler pressed a small kiss to the corner of Kent’s mouth. 

Here in the warmth of Chandler’s smile, the events of the night seemed to fade like a nightmare in the morning light. They drank their tea together, exchanging a few more kisses, before the length of time they had both been awake made itself known and they both yawned.

“The bathroom is through there if you would like a shower.”

“Would you like to join me?” Kent asked, then added, “we don’t have to…I mean…I don’t want to be alone”, he admitted.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am”, Kent replied with more bravery than he felt. Cold panic gripped him. What if it had all been an act? What if Chandler really was the monster that had been in his flat earlier tonight?

The bathroom was spacious, too, and the glass shower cabin could’ve easily fit three people. 

“I have no –,” Chandler started, then stopped, both of them standing awkwardly in front of each other. “I’ve never done this before.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to”, Chandler brushed his thumb over Kent’s cheekbone. “I trust you.”

The words made his heart seize in his chest, but in a good way. “May I?” He asked, a hand raised halfway to the buttons of Chandler’s shirt.

“Please.”

Ripping clothes off in a fit of passion was one thing but there was intimacy to be found here, too, by slowly undoing button by button, uncovering the perfect expanse of Chandler’s chest, slipping the shirt over his broad shoulder and leaving it folded on the counter.

Kent rested his flat hand over Chandler’s breastbone and felt his quickly rising and falling lungs and his rapid heartbeat beneath the skin. “Are you okay?”

Chandler smiled and took his hand to kiss the tips of his fingers. “I’m fine.”

Taking a step back, Kent slipped his hand from Chandler’s, holding the ends of the scrubs tightly. “Whatever you see, please don’t ask.”

A shadow clouded Chandler’s expression but he nodded so Kent pulled the shirt over his head. Most of the wax had fallen off but the burns it had left behind were clearly visible. He undid the strings over his trousers and let them fall to the ground as well, then deliberately turned around to pick them up. His heart raced in his chest, but not out of passion.

“Emerson.”

He was slow to turn around after he had folded the scrubs and put them on the counter next to Chandler’s shirt. What would he see on his face? Pity? Disgust?

“Do they still bother you?” Chandler asked, with an expression Kent couldn’t read but was not either of those he had expected. 

“Only the way they look”, he admitted. 

“You are beautiful”, Chandler said, voice full of conviction and the events of tonight hadn’t pushed Kent so far yet that he could take a compliment without blushing.

Chandler used his temporary embarrassment to take off his own trousers and underwear until he stood naked in front of Kent for the second time tonight.

The first time for real.

“May I?” Chandler held out his hand and Kent took it and was pulled closer until they were skin to skin. The smell of tiger balm threatened to choke him but Kent firmly clamped down on his fear and looked up at Chandler. “May I kiss you?”

“Always.”

Chandler’s hands framed his head so he could tilt it backwards slightly for a better angle, before the slid down over his back, but staying above his waist before wrapping around him to keep him close as they kissed. Kent wrapped his own arms around Chandler’s waist, holding him close, too. He felt safe like this, safe and warm and without pain.

Against his abdomen, Kent could feel Chandler’s cock rise and harden, as did his own. A part of him was glad that he could feel like this around Chandler, while another part remembered how his body had betrayed him earlier tonight.

Annoyed, Kent pushed the memory away. The nightmare had no place here.

Chandler broke the kiss first, out of breath but smiling and his arms still safely around Kent. 

“What do you want?” He asked, affectionately bumping their heads together. 

“I really want you to fuck me”, Kent replied. “if you want”, he added at the same moment as Chandler said, “I have lube and condoms.”

They shared a laugh at their eagerness and Kent asked, “Show me?”

Chandler let go of him and opened a drawer. “I don’t like the mess when I…relax.”

“I get it”, Kent replied and took two condoms.

“The bed is – “

“Here is fine”, Kent interrupted him. “Quicker to clean up, too.”

Chandler kissed him. “Thank you.”

Kent gave him an affectionate smile, then rolled the condom over his cock and squirted some lube into his hand. Tonight hadn’t been kind to him and he grimaced slightly when he pushed his fingers inside. Tomorrow wouldn’t be easy but it was a price he was willing to pay. He felt like he needed this, needed to feel the real Chandler as a kind of wall against the nightmare.

“Are you alright?” Of course Chandler had noticed his change in expression and was worried for him. 

Kent felt a surge of affection in his chest. “I’m fine.”

Since it was going to be uncomfortable regardless, Kent pulled his fingers out and pushed himself up on the counter and spread his legs. 

Chandler stepped between them, looking a little uncertain. 

“Are you alright? We can stop”, Kent said, reaching out to take Chandler’s hand into his. 

Chandler shook his head. “It’s only nerves.” He held his cock in his hand, setting the tip against Kent’s opening. “Is that alright?”

“Yes”, Kent smiled. He struggled to keep the smile up as Chandler started to push inside but managed it by staring at Chandler’s face, how unguarded he looked in this moment and how privileged Kent was witness it. 

They were chest to chest almost by the time Chandler was fully inside him and they were both breathing hard. 

“Are you okay?” Kent asked. The edge of the counter was digging into his scars and his muscles were protesting he awkward, cramped position he was in but he didn’t care.

“You feel – “Chandler buried his face in Kent’s neck. He started to move his hips, small, shallow thrusts. The mirror behind Kent was reflected in the glass of the shower cabin and Kent saw that through it Chandler looked him in the eyes.

And grinned with too many teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> In the grand tradition of Dante I turned Menoetius, a titan of violent anger, rash action and human mortality, into a demon.


End file.
